SINCE Phillis denies me relief,
If she's angry I'll feek it in wine;
Tho' fhe laughs at my amorous grief,
At my mirth why fhou'd the repine.

The sparkling champaign fhall remove
All the grief my dull foul has in store
My reason I lost when I lov'd,
And by drinking what can I do more.

Or

If Phillis wou'd pity my pain,
am'rous vows wou'd approve ;

my

The juice of the grape I'd disdain,
And get drunk with nothing but love.

L°

900

OVE ftill has fomething of the sea,
From whence his mother rofe;
No time his flaves from doubt can free,
Nor give their thoughts repose:

They are becalm'd in clearest days,

And in rough weather tost; They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempefts loft.

One while they seem to touch the port,
Then ftraight into the main
Some angry wind, in cruel fport,
Their veffel drives again.

'At first, disdain and pride they fear,
Which if they chance to 'fcape,
Rivals and falfhood foon appear, 1
In a more dreadful shape.

By fuch degrees to joy they come,
And are fo long withstood,

So flowly they receive the fum,
It hardly does them good.

'Tis cruel to prolong a pain;
And to defer a bliss,
Believe me, gentle Hermoine,
No lefs inhuman is.

An

An hundred thousand oaths your fears
Perhaps wou'd not remove;
And if I gaz'd a thousand years,
I cou'd no deeper love.

'Tis fitter much for you to guess,

Than for me to explain;

But grant, oh! grant that happiness,
Which only does remain.

PHILLIS has fuch charming graces,

Beauty triumphs in her eye:

She was made for the embraces

Of fome mighty deity.

Phillis has fuch charming graces, ¦
I must love her, tho' I die.

Have a care,

celeftial creature,

Coynefs may your beauty pall; You an angel are by nature; Angels by their pride lost all. Have a care, celestial creature, Left I triumph in your fall,

L 2

TEL

TEL

ELL me, tell me, charming creature,
Will you never ease my pain?

Muft I die for every feature?
Muft I always love in vain?
The defire of admiration,

Is the pleasure you purfue;
Pr'ythee try a lasting paffion;
Such a love as mine for you.

Tears and fighing cou'd not move you ;
For a lover ought to dare:
When I plainly told I lov'd you,

Then you faid I went too far.
Are fuch giddy ways be seeming?
Will my dear be fickle ftill?
Conqueft is the joy of women

Let their flaves be what they will.

Your neglect with torment fills me,
And my defperate thoughts increase;
Pray confider, if you kill me,

You will have a lover lefs.

If your wandering heart is beating
For new lovers, let it be:

But, when you have done coquetting,
Name a day, and fix on me.

The

IN

The Anfwer.

N vain, fond youth, thy tears give o'er ;
What more, alas! can Flavia do?
Thy truth I own, thy fate deplore:
All are not happy that are true,

Suppress thofe fighs, and weep no more;

Shou'd heav'n and earth with thee combine,

'Twere all in vain; fince any pow'r To crown thy love must alter mine.

But, if revenge can ease thy pain,
I'll footh the ills I cannot cure;
Tell that I drag a hopeless chain,
And all that Inflict, endure.

WH

HILE gentle Parthenia walks,
And fweetly fmiles, and gaily talks,
A thousand fhafts around her fly,
A thousand fwains unheeded die.

If then the labours to be feen, With all her killing air and mien ; From fo much beauty, so much art, What mortal çan fecure his heart?